Marine Summer: Year 2041 (9 page)

“So corporal, what’s next?” Buckley asked.

“You’ll be transported to the platoon barracks. They’re dorms, actually,” he smiled. “You’ll be quarantined at first, to see the doctors and stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Buckley asked. He seemed frustrated.

“I don’t know, sergeant, I’m just the tram operator,” he chuckled.

Within seconds a bus had pulled up next to the platform. It looked much like the tram car on wheels.

“Gentlemen, here’s your ride,” the corporal said.

The bus entered a dark tunnel, segregating us from the main population.

“I don’t think I’m going to like this,” Buckley said.

Three weeks stuck in quarantine. It was hell. Segregated from the general population and treated like a bunch of sick degenerates. I’d longed for the silence of Fort Rice, but if it wasn’t for Rags, who shared my coffin rack with me, I would have preferred being back there, guarding the nothing of a fallen base.

Buckley said it was like being in jail, three hots and a cot. I didn’t know; I’d never been in jail. The chow was the best that we’d ever been served since we joined the corps, but after the first week it grew monotonous.

The doctors who poked and prodded us said all of us had become malnourished and prescribed double rations with protein shakes. Ugh, those shakes tasted like chewy chocolate powder mixed with swamp water. Buckley let us pour them down the shower drain at first, until he discovered they were watching us via cameras. Then he ordered us to choke them down.

It was the 22
nd
day of the quarantine before they let us have any recreation time, which meant walking around the supply bay adjacent to our dorm. Circle after circle we walked. Like zombies we dragged full bellies of bloated meat and protein shakes around that exterior ring. If you tried to run for exercise, you’d quickly be scolded like some toddler who had disobeyed his mommy. It was boredom at its finest.

They gave us two choices: one, watch the pugil stick matches the supply division held every night in the bay. Or two, return to our dorm and watch old black-and-white movies in the day room. There was no day and there was no room, just a couple of metal folding chairs and a plastic couch that if you sat on wrong, you’d slide off until your ass smacked the hard concrete floor.

We spent two more weeks as outcasts, rejects from normal society. Then, one morning, they instructed us to start joining morning muster, something that we’d been barred from since they gave us the slightest touch of freedom from our cold gray stockade.

I was standing there in formation, casually conversing with a few of the other guys. All of us were spit-shined in new uniforms, a far cry from the tattered ones we arrived in. Then I heard a command I hadn’t heard in months.

“ATTENTION—ON—DECK!”

I was a bit rusty and my snap was lazy, but I wasn’t the last to get into the proper stance. My eyes stared through the wall in front of me to a point I imagined a thousand yards away. I didn’t see the major walk in; I only heard company-grade officers address him.

“PARADE—REST!”

With a quick step of my left foot to the side, my arms flew behind my back; my thumbs laced at the belt line like they belonged there.

“Good morning, Marines!” the major said, finally walking into view.

My heart sank in my chest as this monster stepped into view. He was enormous, the biggest black man I’d ever seen. He had no neck, literally no neck; he was just shoulders and head. He made Buckley look miniature compared to him. As he stood there staring out into the ranks with his hands on his hips, I noticed the size of his arms, twice the size of Buckley’s. I don’t know what scared me more, his arms or the scar on the right side of his face leading up to his eye patch.

“I said…good morning, Marines!”

Simultaneously we all answered back, “Good morning, sir!”

“Oorah! That’s more like it,” he said, accepting the clipboard a corporal handed him.

“All present and accounted for, sir!” the corporal said before stepping back behind him.

“Even the FNGs [fucking new guys], I see. Well, would you look at this,” he said pointing at Buckley. “Staff Sergeant Chris Buckley, I heard you were a hell of a Marine once, and you left it all behind to go train a bunch of babies, little piss-ant tit suckers!” he chuckled.

With breakneck speed, Buckley was at attention, “Yes sir, heard the same about you. Before you went to…supply!”

Like Moses parting the Red Sea, the ranks separated as the major pushed his way through to address him.

With his cannon barrel size finger he poked Buckley in the chest, “What did you say, grunt?”

“I said, it’s good to see you too sir!”

“Bet your ass it is, you old warhorse!” he said, laughing as he extended his hand toward Buckley.

I was bit confused. I was waiting for a fight.

“How the hell have you been, Chris?

“Fucking ‘A’ fine, Harold. It’s good to see you.”

“Damn right it’s good to see me, even with one eye, I’m the sexiest devil dog the Corps has.” He slapped Buckley on the shoulder. “Are these your men?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Outstanding. We’ll have to catch up,” he said as he started to walk through the ranks again. “Men, my name is Major Harold Jenkins. I’m the supply officer here on Tiger Mountain. Stay on the lines, do as you’re told, and you’ll survive until we can find you all your next duty station. Step out of line and your ass belongs to me. I am an eighth-generation Marine! I eat, sleep, and piss excellence! Your sergeant can tell you, I’m firm and I’m firm. It’s my way or I’ll make you eat the highway!

The major stopped right in front of me, I didn’t want to do it, but I couldn’t help it: I raised my head to look at him. I was mesmerized by the size of this man.

“What in the hell is your malfunction? Who told you you were worthy to look at me?” he said screaming, his breath forceful, I could feel my eyebrows dance in the wind.

Jumping to attention and now looking straight through his chest, I answered, “No one sir, sorry sir!”

“Damn right you’re sorry, you little ankle biter! Buckley, you better teach these whelps who the big dog is around here, or I’ll neuter every last one of them!”

“Yes, sir!” Buckley said.

Major Jenkins leaned down until we were forehead-to-forehead as his one eye looked into mine, “I see your soul in there, boy. Fuck up again and I’ll reach in and pull it out. I’ll tie it on a string and wear it around my neck while I’m giving your momma 12 inches of black thunder. Do you understand me?”

I nodded yes as he nudged me backwards with one push of his massive skull. Rags, tied to a pole, wasn’t as scared as I was. He sank to the pounce position. His growl was evil as he foamed at the mouth, straining to pull free from his ties.

“Is that your mutt?” he asked.

“Yes, sir!” I answered.

“You better get him under control. If he growls at me again, he’ll be on my supper plate.”

“Yes, sir!”

I stayed in my rack the rest of the day with Rags, getting up only to take him to a designated shower they allowed him to relieve himself in. I just lay there, thinking. I was angry. Part of me wanted to punch the major for what he said about my mother; the other half didn’t want to die.

It would be two more weeks before our orders would come in. I found it best to stay in the dorm. Morning conflicts with Major Jenkins were all I could handle, so I stayed within the confined walls to prevent any more head bumping situations, and I kept my eyes and mouth to myself. The push-ups I had once hated became my release from boredom. I could now do a hundred without breaking a sweat.

Finally it was judgment day. We stood in formation in that cold cave of a bay. My focus was strong. I had mastered the art of the thousand-yard stare. I felt like a statue. I could hear everything around me happening, but I stayed strong and didn’t sway, centering my vision on a small pebble protruding from the poured concrete wall as if it were the center of the universe.

“Buckley, front and center!” Jenkins commanded.

In a rapid military manner, Sarge was quickly standing in front of Jenkins.

“Yes, sir!”

“M.C.R.D. Seattle! Congratulations, you’ll be two wings over training more fighting men.”

“Thank you, sir!”

“Dismissed!”

Buckley smiled as he made his way back to the front of our ranks.

“Houserman!”

Like he had never had a day of training, Houserman casually strolled to the front.

“Quit your fucking lollygagging and get your ass up here or I’ll send your ass to the frontlines!” Jenkins warned him.

“Sir, yes sir!”

“Admiral’s staff, Navy! You’re going to go jack-off the white coats!”

“E-e-excuse me sir, I don’t understand,” Houserman stuttered.

“Listen dumb-shit, you’ll be washing the admiral’s dishes, shining his shoes, or standing guard outside of his office. You’ll do whatever the fuck they tell you to do, and you’ll do it like a fucking Marine! Do you copy?”

“Yes, sir,” he said halfheartedly.

“Get the fuck back in ranks, you broke-dick!”

Waiting patiently for my name to be called, I listened as others were told they would become stewards, janitorial staff, and other demeaning jobs with the confines of Tiger Mountain.

“Butler!” he called. My heart sank and my legs became weak. “Butler, front and center!” his voice, loud and angry, caused me to shake as I ran to stand in front of him.

“Yes sir!” I answered.

He pointed to the balcony overlooking the bay. Without thinking about it I looked up, metal balconies lined the bay, black windows with steel doors hid behind them. “Major general’s staff. You hit the jackpot, jack-wagon!”

“But, but sir,” I stammered, “I’m supposed to be a suit.”

“A suit?” he said mockingly. “Are you fucking serious? You’re nothing more than a stray. You haven’t earned the right to wear a suit! For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even finish boot camp, yet we still have to call you pathetic nomads Marines! Now get your ass back in ranks!”

“I am a Marine!” I said, standing my ground.

He rushed me, that massive finger now poking me in the chest.

“Say it again, I dare you! Say it again and I’ll stomp your pathetic ass into an oil spot right where you’re standing!”

Before I knew what I was doing, I swatted his hand away from my chest and stepped to him. Looking up at him and gritting my teeth I told him, “I’m a Marine!”

I waited for him to swing, knock my head off, but he didn’t. His eyes looked me up and down. A devious smile appeared on his face as he snickered.

“You are, are you?” he asked.

“Yes sir! I’m a Marine!” I grunted.

“We’ll see about that.”

And in a flash his hand was wrapped around my neck. I could feel his fingers digging in, cutting off my air.

“Well, boys,” he said as he dragged me, “this so-called Marine is about to find out what a real Marine is! Pugil sticks now!”

Like he was throwing a feather, he lifted me off the ground and sent me flying. I tripped over sandbags, crashing to the ground on the flat of my back. I could hear the air rushing from my lungs.

“Get his helmet,” Buckley said to Houserman.

“No helmets!” Jenkins informed them.

“That’s not right, sir,” Buckley said, stepping over the bags to help pick me up.

“Neither is this sawed-off runt stepping up to me. You should have trained these children to know their place in the corps.”

Buckley dusted me off. I was still trying to catch my breath.

“I’m taking his place,” Buckley declared.

“Stand down, sergeant. That’s an order!” Jenkins said.

“This is crazy, Harold, and you know it. It’s out of line! I will file a complaint with the command sergeant major and the commanding officer if you force me to!”

“Do what you feel is needed, sergeant, but this pup is going to be taught a lesson!” He bent over, picking up his stick. “Here—today!”

I looked at Buckley. It was the first time I saw concern in his eyes for anything. He whispered in my ear, “Exploit his blind side, don’t stand in front of him, and keep moving.”

“Out of the ring, sergeant!”

“Good luck kid,” he said to me.

It struck me odd not to stand in front of him. The giant was a mile wide. He was all front.

“Pick up your stick, boy!” he said, pointing to the one laying at his feet.

My heart was beating like a drum, I had already felt his power, and I could only imagine what those arms would feel like swinging a pugil stick at my head.

I soon found out. As soon as I took my eyes off him, my world went black. He knew I wasn’t watching, so he cheap-shotted me right in the back of the head.

“This gentleman is why you never take your eyes off your enemy!” he said, his sickening laugh ridiculing me. “You had enough, boy?”

“Get up, Butler!” Buckley shouted. “Don’t give this asshole the satisfaction!”

“Careful with your words, sergeant, or you will be next.”

“It’d be my pleasure…sir!” Buckley responded sarcastically.

I needed to make a choice, fight or flight. I chose fight. I rose back up to face him.

“So you had enough, pup?”

“Nope, I want all you got!” I said.

It was a stupid thing to say. I think my heart was bigger than my balls, because in less than a millisecond I was on my back again. He took one step forward, swinging from his right and landing a shot to my left temple that twisted me completely around.

“All I got? Hell, little man, you didn’t even defend yourself!”